“Turn around, slowly, and keep your hands up where I can see them,” the voice behind me directed.

Only one type of person would be hanging out on a rooftop across the street from a crime scene. I grimaced, but did as I was told, turning around with my hands raised above my head. My first glimpse of the voice’s owner confirmed my suspicion.

“Fireball.” It wasn’t difficult to guess who had caught me. He had gone for full-on comic book superhero, dressed head-to-toe in yellow spandex that gleamed against his dark skin. Red knee-high boots, a red mask, and a red cape billowing dramatically behind him completed the image.

Although he was standing at least twenty feet away, he must have had remarkable hearing, as he grinned and gave a short bow.

“Yes, it is I. You didn’t think you could rob a bank in my city without running into the Great Fireball, now did you?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips and posing, nose in the air, as though waiting for a cameraman to snap a picture. I glanced around the rooftop, half expecting a crowd of reporters to have appeared from nowhere. At least that would explain all of Fireball’s ridiculous posturing. But we were alone on the roof. Alone, that was, except for the shadow that emerged from behind Fireball’s billowing cape, slinking forward to stand beside the superhero.

The shadow was a teenage boy, dressed head to toe in black, with a black mask and a cape of his own. Where Fireball’s cape fluttered majestically in the breeze, the boy’s cape hung limply on his back, and he looked like he would snap in half if the wind was any stronger. He was also staring intently at me, in a way that made me distinctly uncomfortable. I scowled ferociously, but he continued to stare.

I was a little disappointed, to be honest. I had been expecting a clever and courageous superhero, worthy of being my nemesis, not this pompous idiot and his creepy sidekick. How had he managed to survive for so long? Even the most hopeless villains back at the Academy would have no trouble defeating him. Maybe I could just get rid of him now, and claim the city for my own. That would surely impress the Rubes.

“Hand over the money, girl. There’s no escaping justice.” Fireball rubbed his hands together, then drew them apart to reveal a crackling ball of fire, about the size of a soccer ball. He tossed it from hand to hand, and my eyes automatically followed the arc of fire.

Alright, so maybe he wasn’t quite as incompetent as I had assumed. With a name like Fireball, I really should have seen that superpower coming. He was still a pompous idiot, but anyone who could create fireballs out of thin air had to be taken seriously. No way was I prepared to dodge fireballs right now, not after pushing my powers past their limits in the bank.

“Look, I would love to stay and exchange insults, but it’s been a long day, and I’m very busy,” I said. “Perhaps another time.”

He stopped tossing the fireball between his hands and held it up menacingly. “I’ve tried to be reasonable, but you have five seconds to hand over that money before I throw this. Five...”

I squeezed my eyes shut and sent my mind tumbling into the rooftop beneath our feet.

“Four...”

I focused my attention on the section of roof where Fireball and his sidekick were standing, and yanked those particles apart as quickly as I could.

“Three...”

The roof resisted at first, but desperation lent me the strength. With a drawn-out groan the roof opened up directly beneath Fireball’s canary yellow boots.

I opened my eyes in time to glimpse Fireball’s head disappearing into the hole, along with the tail end of his sidekick’s cape. There was a crash as they landed on the floor below, and I released my grip on the particles of the roof. They flowed back together to form a solid surface once more, trapping the duo inside the building.

I slumped to the ground, worn out, but elated. Even exhausted as I was, I had still managed to beat Fireball in our first conflict. I couldn’t rest yet, however. The sirens were wailing ever-closer, and it wouldn’t be long before Fireball found a way to get back to the rooftop.

With a groan, I dragged myself to my feet once again.

Five minutes later I walked out the opposite end of the alley, whistling cheerfully. Death’s Dancer and the stolen money were both safely stowed in my backpack. I hugged the backpack to my chest and grinned. Take that, Rubes. I had officially committed my first felony, and was well on my way to becoming a supervillain.

~~~

It took the rest of the day to find an apartment building that would accept a stranger with no references appearing out of the blue and asking for a room. I wandered into ever-dirtier parts of the city before finally stumbling across a building with a sign in the cracked front window reading:

APARTMENTS FOR RENT

NO REFERENCES REQUIRED

IMMEDIATE OCCUPANCY

One phone call later, and a good chunk of my money deposited into the sweaty hand of the man who emerged from the building with a ring of keys, and I had my own apartment.

I wrinkled my nose at the rusted bedframe, which was the only piece of furniture in the room. My room at the Academy had been plain, but at least there’d been a mattress. Still, it had a locked door, four walls and a roof, so I couldn’t complain.

I dumped my bag on the ground and set to work rearranging the remaining stolen money in bundles throughout my backpack. I wasn’t about to leave this much money lying around my apartment, so I would have to take it with me everywhere until I could find a better alternative. Something crinkled as I was pulling my costume from the backpack. I froze. Had Gran packed an unpleasant surprise for me?

If she had, it would be better to just get it over with. Holding the backpack at arm’s length, I upended it onto the floor. For a moment, nothing happened, then several sheets of crumpled paper floated to the ground.

Frowning, I gathered up the papers and flattened them out. The top page was a list of potential minions, with a detailed map of Toronto showing where each of them could be found in the city. After that was a map of potential locations for secret lairs, with notes beside each one describing the building: “abandoned warehouse”, “soap factory”, “power station”, that sort of thing. The remaining pages mapped out possible targets, with statistics on the damage that would be caused by attacking them and the likely extent of the media coverage.

I skimmed through the pages, increasingly amazed at the level of detail they contained, until I finally flipped the last sheet and saw nothing but my own hands. This handful of papers had everything a brand-new supervillain like me could possibly want. The Rubes might have abandoned me in an alley, but here was solid proof that someone wanted me to succeed. I just found it hard to believe that someone might be Gran. Maybe one of the other teachers at the Academy had slipped it into my backpack when she wasn’t looking.

Tears pricked my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered to the empty room. “Whoever you are, thank you. You won’t be disappointed.”